At the Crossroads of Betrayal
by Deana Bell
Summary: Ruhamah's village is being attacked by a bloodthirsty army who kills with no regard to age or gender. Will she and her brother make it out alive? Rated for violence. Inspired by a passage in Obadiah.


Author's Note: I don't think this is really historically accurate, but try to enjoy it anyway… 10 points to whoever finds the Beatles reference.  
  
At The Crossroads of Betrayal: Part I  
  
"Ruhamah!"   
  
She turned at the sound of her name, catching a glimpse of her little brother between the throngs of rushing feet. She hurried back to where he had fallen among the chaos, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him along at a run.  
  
"Come on, Amos!" She urged. She did not need to remind him of their fate should they fail to escape; it was displayed all around them. Bodies painted crimson with blood littered the ground, causing panicked, screaming people to fall. Many homes were ablaze, and the flames were spreading from building to building and throughout the village. The attackers ran past with armloads of stolen possessions – anything from loaves of bread to golden statues – and cut down anyone who stood in their way with their gleaming swords. Tears of fear clung at her cheeks, but she pressed on .  
  
Ruhamah slowed as she felt Amos trip. He was but seven and having a hard time keeping up with her longer strides. Tears fell harder from her brown eyes as she remembered. Today was her fifteenth birthday.  
  
Suddenly a sword cut into her line of vision. Screaming, she tried to run, but could find no escape from its steal gaze.  
  
The ring of metal against metal filled the air as another sword came in contact with the one blocking her path.  
  
"Run, Ruhamah!" The man holding the new weapon cried.  
  
She risked a glance in his direction. "Father!" she shouted, stunned to see the desperate fear in his normally loving brown eyes. Even so, she forced her legs to move, pulling a wailing Amos behind her through the newly opened path. A cry rose within her own throat as she felt the spray of her father's blood against the left side of her body. She didn't dare look at the scene. Her father's last command was the only thing that kept her in motion.  
  
***  
  
Caked with sweat, blood, and dust, Ruhamah and Amos finally and miraculously escaped the ravaged city. Amos began to sink to the ground in relief when they reached the outskirts, but Ruhamah urged him onward, knowing that they had not yet escaped danger. Though the din of battle was now a distant noise, there was no telling how far the enemy was spread or whether more would be coming.  
  
She thought she had run out of tears, but more fell at the site of her brother. He limped along behind her, whimpering and crying; he had injured his ankle when he fell, and exhaustion was etched on his dusty face. "Why, God, why?" she whispered.  
  
Compassion overruling her physical weakness, Ruhamah hefted her brother into her arms and stumbled onward, unsure of her destination.  
  
"Lead me, Lord. Give me strength."  
  
***  
  
"Today is the day I die." Ruhamah conceded as she sank to her knees on the sandy road, setting Amos down in front of her. In the distance, near the crossroads, stood a small army of men, a detachment of which was already heading towards them and the few other villagers who had made it this far. "I'm sorry, Amos." She whispered to his sleeping form. She ran a finger down his tear-stained cheek. "I'm so sorry."  
  
Tears escaped the horror she experienced. Her heart felt as though it were bleeding within her chest; it felt like she was dying. Then again, perhaps it was wishful thinking that she would die outside the sting of a weapon.  
  
A weak cheer rose up from those near her. *They must be grateful to be nearing relief from the pain.* thought Ruhamah. But looking up, she saw the source of the joy. Relief flooded through her, the most wonderful feeling in the world. Her heart was suddenly healed. Waves of joy rushed across her pools of sorrow, possessing and caressing her tortured soul.  
  
"Amos!" she shouted, shaking her brother awake. "Amos! It's the Edomites! We're saved!" The Edomites were like brothers to the Israelites, offspring of a common ancestor. They were now the Israelite's salvation.  
  
The weary villagers lifted their arms in the direction of the approaching Edomites, singing praises to God for their safety. No eye was dry.  
  
Ruhamah closed her eyes and prayed silently. She was safe. Amos was safe.'  
  
Suddenly a scream rose up from behind her. She turned to see a bloody head rolling in the sand, horror-filled eyes frozen wide open. Ruhamah turned away, unable to breathe. Tohmar, whose head she had just seen, had been her neighbor. Had been pregnant.  
  
A scream swelled in her own throat, but could find no escape. There was no where to run, no where to hide.  
  
They would all be killed – betrayed by their own blood.  
  
Ruhamah remained where she was, placidly awaiting her fate as the screams crescendoed around her.   
  
Many of the young women were not being killed, but dragged back towards the rest of the army. Most others were killed. About half of the Edomites that had headed their way were heading back toward her village, singing songs of mockery for the fall of Israel. They were off to plunder their brothers in their time of tribulation.  
  
The blinding light of the sun was suddenly broken by the silhouette of a man. He now stood before Amos, his sword in striking position. Tears swelled from the boy's eyes at the sight, but he made no sound.  
  
"NO!" cried Ruhamah, throwing herself atop her brother in a wild attempt to protect him. "He's just a boy!" It would do no good, she knew, but she could not bear to sit by and watch as her brother was killed. "Just a boy..."  
  
She heard Amos speak softly from beneath her. "I love you, sister."  
  
"I love you, too, brother."  
  
The world seemed to go silent. Everything went into slow motion has a hand shoved her away from Amos. Her head impacted the road with a thunk that resounded in the lack of sound, but she barely felt the blood flowing down her forehead. Ruhamah spit the dust out of her mouth and weakly pushed herself up with her hands. She turned her head just in time to see the steel cut through the brown of her brother's shirt, spawning the germination of a rose upon his chest. She gasped and returned her face to the road, her lungs refusing to work. Her mind could not grasp what she had just seen.  
  
Heartbreak overwhelmed her. Finally all the blood, all the death, caught up with her and sent her sprawling into blackness.  
  
________________________________________________________________________  
  
This story was inspired by a passage in Obadiah. This book of the Bible is basically the prophet Obadiah foreshadowing the destruction of the Edomites due to their behavior when Jerusalem fell to the Babylonians. This is sort of a spin-off of that, done on the setting of a smaller, unnamed city.  
  
  
  
"You shouldn't have done this! You shouldn't have gloated when they exiled your relatives to distant lands. You shouldn't have rejoiced because they were suffering such misfortune. You shouldn't have crowed over them as they suffered these disasters. You shouldn't have plundered the land of Israel when they were suffering such calamity. You shouldn't have gloated over the destruction of your relatives, looting their homes and making yourselves rich at their expense. You shouldn't have stood at the crossroads, killing those who tried to escape. You shouldn't have captured the survivors, handing them over to their enemies in that terrible time of trouble."   
  
–Obadiah 12-14 NLT  
  
Disclaimer: Naturally, I do not own the Edomites, nor the Israelites, nor anything in the story that actually existed. Ruhamah and Amos I suppose are my characters. I also don't own he Beatles song quoted within the story, though I wish I could say I'd written it, because it's pretty. My computer tells me that "crescendoed" is not a word, but I like it so I used it anyway. I suppose that is mine as well. 


End file.
